


Putting ghosts to rest

by RussianWitch



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad and Happy, Sexual Content, misuse of kitchen, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's darkest before the dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting ghosts to rest

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful Crowgirl

Brian starts to feel like he's a ghost while still in LA waiting for the ax to fall.   
No one who knew him or something about the situation will meet his eyes.  
People who had greeted him before the whole mess got started suddenly look past him, make an effort not to notice that he is standing right in front of them.

In the end to save the LAPD bad publicity and him-self a jail sentence: he quits and leaves the state...  
Haunting Mexico isn't much different from haunting his former precinct.  
He spends the last of his savings on a halfdecent car, takes a pathetically paying job at a garage to fix it up at night while fixing mom cars during the days, enough to survive at least a single race. Oddly enough the racers tolerate him inasmuch as he doesn't get his ass handed to him as soon as he shows up at the designated track. He learns that Vince made it thanks to his intervention and Dom managed to cross the border; these things save him a beating or three.

He isn't part of the crowd, they won’t talk to him or help him in any way but he is allowed into the races and they will take his money or his car depending on the stakes. They don't even resent him for mostly winning, not much anyway. He drifts through the crowd a pale ghost between bronze and chocolate bodies, almost translucent due to lack of sleep and barely eating, holding himself together with sugar and coffee most of the time. 

He isn't out to destroy himself but without a goal in his life like the one serving the law provided once upon a time he can't manage to act like a proper human being either.   
Peripherally he's aware that he's circling something, or someone to be exact, several someones who have settled in the same region. He doesn't allow himself to go look for them despite every fiber in his body aching to see them again, to wrap himself in the family feeling of it all.   
Instead Brian decides to go to one of the larger cities, lose himself in human mass of shady clubs. He doesn't consciously pick the guys bigger than himself to take into the back alley but more often than not he ends up on his knees sucking some bruiser's cock forcibly not thinking about where he wants to be.   
Brian only feels alive when he's in the middle of the race flooring the gas pedal; he almost feels like him-self in those brief moments. 

When he goes out into the city, he doesn't drive back the same night; it’s too dangerous to be behind the wheel, messed up, and drive off the road in the middle of the drive because the world closes in on him even while at full speed. He sleeps in the car parked somewhere out of the way. He curls his aching limbs into the back seat and wishes for something stronger than a drink and a fuck. 

He doesn't mean to cross paths with Dom again, not consciously anyway; he isn't that much of a masochist.  
Brian isn't even sure which club he has stumbled into following the crowd of tourists he has been drinking with for half the night. He loses them on the dance floor, more interested in losing himself in the music than in their company. With his eyes closed, he might as well be in an empty room surrounded by music, letting it fill up all the empty spaces inside him. After a while, he feels hands on his body. Someone trying to dance with him joins his rhythm until he twists away with a smile. When other dancers pick up on it, they join the games making Brian feel like he is part of a whole for a few brief moments at a time. He moves around the dance-floor in the arms of both woman and men not thinking about anything much. Somewhere between partners, he loses his shirt but that almost feels better, certainly less hot with all the bodies crowded around.

Spinning away from his latest partner, Brian steps back panting and in need of a drink. He smiles at several people who try calling him back on to the dance-floor but turns away, only to get his way barred by someone he can't quite make out in the thick shadows away from the strobes. He tries to go around whoever it is but is grabbed instead, pulled against a hard chest with his arms trapped between his body and that of his assailant. That couldn't happen if he hadn't been at the end of this rope. Brian isn't surprised that the people around them ignore the struggle as he's dragged through the busy club. People know better than to get involved in someone else's business and Brian isn't one of their own after all. He doesn't expect to get dumped in to one of the VIP alcoves spaced out along the walls, doesn't expect to look up and see Dominic Torretto towering over him with a scowl.   
Enraged with the world and his own lack of luck, Brian almost snarls back before remembering that in all probability that won't end well. Instead he bites his lip and scrambles back to sit up in the corner of the plush seat. 

"Hi, Dom..." 

They both know the casual tone is an act, but some niceties should be observed at all times.

"Brian, what the hell are you doing here?"

There really isn't a good answer to that question. Brian exists, for the lack of a better plan because for the first time in his life he's free of everything. It's supposed to be liberating having nothing to lose. It really isn't.

"I was going to get a drink."

"Didn't look like that was all you're getting."

Brian wonders at Dominic's tone; he’s having trouble judging how the night is going to play out. When Brian was playing the rookie racer boy, it was easy; it's always been easy for him to not be him-self. Without the undercover persona, he doesn't have anything to hide behind to protect himself with.

"Yeah, well, can't play with cars all the time."

"Shouldn't you be back in LA? Doing whatever cops do on their time off?"

The mocking is painful, it allows for the sneer he's been holding in to work free.

"Decided to take advantage of my retirement and go somewhere warm. It's a free country after all, isn't it?"

"Retirement?"

There is a wealth of confusion in the short question and used to be Brian would latch onto that, try to sort out where it comes from. Only now he doesn't really care beyond finding out if he will be walking home or in some alley bleeding.

"Yeah, figured I'd save them the trouble of deciding to fire me, or arrest me. Turns out both LAPD and the FBI don't take too kindly to people to help criminals, who would have thought." 

The booth, once he leans back, resigned to whatever fate has in store for him, is actually pretty comfortable; his body can sink into the cushions and he can actually stretch out. He could sleep here, just close his eyes and sink into the red and black depth behind them.

"Hey! Brian! Are you with me?"

He has to think about that, and the answer is really obvious.

"Nope, let you go. Not with anybody."

He's really thirsty now and tired, Brian isn't even sure what he wants more: to just go to sleep or to go look for something to drink. Brian is sure that if Dom wants something from him -- payback and the like -- he can damn well wait until Brian can see straight again.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Buster?"

Suddenly Dom is in his face, startlingly close and clearly visible for the first time since he's grabbed Brian off the dance-floor.

"Nothing, man, look, I'm not going to bother you, I'll just go somewhere else, OK? Not come back here again or whatever."

There is suddenly a bottle of something in front of him on the table and Brian starts downing it by habit only to stop halfway annoyed with the realization that he's drinking water. He doesn't want water; water doesn't help him keep all the thoughts he shouldn't be having under control and out of his head.

"Drink it! You look dehydrated."

"Not your problem, is it?"

Brian doesn't really wants to get off the couch, but sitting there means having to deal with Dom and he doesn't want that either. It takes pretty much the last of his energy to slide out of the booth, lay his hands on Dom's chest and push for all he’s worth. Dom doesn't shift and Brian finds him-self plastered against the broad chest he's been not thinking about. Bracing against it and still trying not to think about, now knowing how it feels under his hands even through the shirt as he tries to pull away. He doesn't get far; Dom's hand grabs around the back of his neck, squeezes in warning when he tries to struggle against it.

"I'm making it my problem."

Pressure on his neck forces Brian to follow as Dom starts to walk somewhere. They cross the dance-floor and Brian can see surprise on a lot of faces as people clear a path for them, he isn't sure if it's because of him leaving with someone or maybe, probably, because they know Dom. It's the first time he can remember leaving one of the clubs by the front door in ages, starts to demand that Dom lets him go so Brian can go back to his car, or go back to the club but Dom ignores him. Brian gets dragged down a couple of unfamiliar side streets and away from the ruckus of the clubbing district. They seem to be walking for hours, Brian is painfully reminded of the first time he actually spent time in Dom's company. Only then Dom hadn't been pissed off at him, rather they were riding a high from getting away from the cops and surviving Tran's bitch fit. 

He tries to struggle again when he's pushed through a gate into a dark courtyard attached to a nondescript house. Brian has to wonder if this is where he gets his ass kicked. He's pinned against Dom's chest as the gate is locked behind them, then pushed deeper into the darkness until he can barely make out a doorway. 

"Come on, Dom! Let me go; I'll leave, man, you won't see me again!" 

He's steered through the doorway, and only released after he hears the lock turned behind him. Brian hears a click and he's blinded by the light of a bare bulb. When he can see again, he is standing in a small but neat kitchen with Dom blocking the only way outside.

"What makes you think I don't want to see you?"

For the lack of better things to do, Brian drops onto one of the kitchen chairs hoping that if he ignores Dom he'll be left alone.

"Why would you? Aren't I just a damn cop?"

He shouldn't be talking back, wasn't he trying to ignore Dom a moment before? Only Brian feels like there is just too much bitterness inside of him that he can't contain all of it even at his best, and he hasn't been at his best for quite a while now, not unless he's behind the wheel. 

"When did you get fired?" 

"Didn't, had to walk away before they noticed..." 

The kitchen is too quiet outside of their voices and the humming of an old fridge. It feels surreal as it lulls Brian into sleep. 

"Noticed what?"

The hand is back on the back of his neck, digging into the top of his spine where a permanent knot of tension has been since Brian has left LA.

"Vince disappearing from the hospital."

He feels the hand on his neck tightening.

"Vince told me he got released because of lack of evidence."

"Vince didn't know any better, and didn't bother to ask."

Dom's other hand finds its way to Brian's neck, wraps around his throat and forces him to lean back against Dom's abdomen or choke. 

"Mia could have asked, but you kind of pissed her off."

The hand across his throat tightens some and Brian wonders if Dom is going to want payback for Mia as well.

"Sorry, I didn't want to hurt her but I had to do my job."

"You could have done it without getting her involved."

"Not as fast."

His air gets cut off some more enought that he’s slowly starting to see stars from the lack of air, but all Brian can pay attention to is that he's getting touched by Dom.

"You will not come near her again."

"Wasn't planning on it."

It's a miracle that he still has air enough to talk, but the hands on his neck and throat are warm and Dom is solid behind him; it feels nice. 

"Then why come here?"

The hand on his throat loosens and Brian can breathe again.

"Why not? Didn't know you were here."

He's getting hard under Dom's hands, actually getting hard despite how crappy he feels, despite or maybe because he's getting choked. 

"Don't lie to me."

"OK, so I knew you were around. You didn't know I was even there..." 

"Why did you come here?"

"Look..."

"Just answer the question!" 

"I wanted to see for myself that you made it, OK? Then I didn't have any other place to be so I stayed around."

The words echo through the kitchen and Brian is left bereft of the warmth of Dom's hands on his throat when Dom steps back. He can barely swallow down a whiny demand for the hands back on his skin. 

"That's what I wanted to hear."

Dom rounds the table, sitting down across from Brian and for the first time Brian can see his face clearly. Dom looks tired as well, like he is in mourning, like maybe he isn't sure what the hell to do now that he is here either. Brian wonders why Dom isn't happier since he's managed to get all of his family to safety and get away with the robberies. He might not be king of the scene here but the chance of him ever landing behind bars is slim so he should be happy. Brian needs him to be happy after throwing his life away to make it happen. 

"Just tell me what you want, Dom, I'll do it and..." 

"And what?" 

"And I don't know, whatever you want."

Under the stark light of the bulb, faced with Dom's tired eyes, Brian can't avoid all the thoughts he's been avoiding for months now. He's going to do whatever Dom wants because Dom sure as hell won't do what Brian wants.

"What if I want you here?"

He wonders if he just hallucinated the question, the words are soft and almost get lost under the hum of the refrigerator. 

"For what?"

“For whatever."

Brian snorts, suddenly the whole night, the last months seem hysterically funny; more than a miscommunication, but suddenly far less than abandonment. 

"I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."

Dom leans on the table, rubbing his face with his hands like he's trying to rub away a headache.

"You're wanted, you're going to have words with both Mia and Vince but you're wanted." 

It seems unlikely, could be a trap to take him out of the city voluntarily. Not that a plot like that isn't overkill; no one will care if Brian disappears all of a sudden except maybe for his boss until he finds a new grease monkey. 

"By whom exactly? I sold all of you out, slept with your sister..."

He stops talking at Dom's grimace.

"Lucky for you she ain’t too broken up about it. And if you don't want me to kick your ass, you will not bring it up again."

"Look..."

"No, you look! Nobody leaves the team, not without my say. And guess what? I ain't letting you go."

He shivers at the dark tone in Dom's voice. The information Bilkins had him study before starting his assignment had already told him that Dom was a possessive bastard who didn't like sharing his toys or his people before Brian even saw the man in the flesh. Except Brian has never noticed any of that territoriality directed against him; after the first race he'd been in and other rules seemed to apply.

"Why?"

"I might owe you for making sure everyone else got out."

"You don't owe me shit, except possibly a beer."

Avoidance is such a wonderful thing; Brian is a big fan of it these days. Besides he's still thirsty. Dom turns away to open the fridge, rocking the chair on its hind legs instead of getting up to reach the ancient machine. A bottle of water lands in front of him and Brian feels the urge to swipe it off the table just to make a point.

"I'm not giving you beer until I'm sure I won't have to drag your ass to the nearest hospital to get your stomach pumped."

"I don't need a keeper!" 

He licks his dry lips and notices that Dom is watching him intently again. 

"And stop looking at me like that!"

Because Brian can't stand having that look focused on him. 

"Like what?"

He can't bring him-self to answer, grabs the bottle, and starts chugging the water down instead.

"You aren't exactly making me want to quit looking, doing that." 

The water goes down the wrong way, leaving Brian choking in the worst way possible. He feels like he blacks out for a moment, coming to with Dom's hand on his back rubbing calming circles. 

"What the hell are you playing at, Dom?"

Dom's other hand is suddenly scratching through his hair, forcing Brian to look up, look Dom in the eyes.

"Letty left for Brazil."

“What?!"

"She doesn't like it when I get distracted. Decided that she's done with it."

Dom's hand slides down, his fingers trace the side of Brian's face, brush his cheekbone, and slide further down for his thumb to rub over Brian's bottom lip.  
He tries to pull away from the too intimate touch, but the hand on his back limits his range of movement. Brian feels like his head is about to burst from all the feelings clogging it up.

"Want to know what I was distracted by?"

Brian isn't sure if he really does want to know.  
He’s not sure he can take whatever Dom is playing at, the touches far more that he would ever have expected to get. He opens his lips a bit, hoping that Dom won't notice that it isn't a nervous gesture but a deliberate attempt to taste. The thumb sliding into his mouth is unexpected; it rubs across his tongue, the skin tasting faintly of the grease still stuck under the nail, of salt and the dust perpetually caking everything when you go outside. The skin tastes of Dom; Brian meets Dom's eyes, sees the satisfaction there and bites down. Dom pulls his hand away with a curse, studying the bite marks in his flesh carefully before kicking Brian in the shin.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Fucking with me isn't either."

"Wasn't fucking with you, just trying to work up to it." 

In any other situation, Brian would have sworn Dom is sulking.

"Why? Payback for narking on you?"

He isn't sure what the expression on Dom's face is at that moment, but it isn't anything he can read.

"Aren't you a paranoid bastard?"

"Yeah, well, I have reason to be."

Dom stalks around him, stops to loom behind him again, and, uncaring of the consequences, Brian leans back against the heat of Dom's abdomen again.

"Probably, but not at the moment. I figure we are even after you giving me the car and getting everyone out."

"So this?"

"Pretty much what it sounds like. You think I show the Charger to everyone?"

Dom's hands return to Brian's throat, slide down to trace Brian's collar-bones and further down. He abruptly remembers that he's left his shirt somewhere in the club ages ago. 

"You..."

"Don't over think, will you; just tell me 'yes' or 'no'."

"You don't even know if I swing that way."

Feeling Dom's laugh as well as hearing it sends pleasant shivers down Brian's spine.

"I watched you dancing..."

"So? That's dancing." 

He can feel Dom start to rock against the back of the chair, feel him-self start to move along with the motion.

"Never seen a completely straight guy allowing that much groping. Must be the climate change, huh?"

Somehow Brian finds him-self standing, plastered back to chest against Dom, getting moved along in a rhythm somewhat resembling that of the slower tunes back at the club, Dom's hands sliding over his chest and abdomen.

"Must be."

Brian gasps when Dom's teeth sink into his shoulder. Rough fingers lightly pinches a nipple. 

"Dom..."

"'Yes' or 'no,' Brian, we can deal with the rest when you don't look like death warmed over."

His earlobe gets nipped.

"OK, ok, fine! But if this is some kind of con, I'm going to kill you in the morning."

"You can try."

Brian gets twisted around, pulled back against Dom's chest; face to face and up close, the surreal mist over the night disappears and Brian feels disconcertingly stone cold sober.

"You with me, Bri?"

Dom tastes like beer and family and home, all the things Brian has been pretty sure he'd lost somewhere in the suburbs of LA. He feels Dom's hands slide down his back to knead his ass. He goes limp, lets Dom keep him upright as Brian explores Dom's mouth. He maps the shape of Dom's skull with his hands as his tongue maps Dom's mouth, enjoys the strength that keeps him upright. When he's actually encouraged to stand on his own two feet again, he moans in protest and gets groped some more in return. 

"There a bedroom here, you know..."

Brian almost doesn't hear the words, absorbed as he is in getting Dom's shirt off of him. Bedroom means lying down, getting comfortable, wasting time sorting them-selves out and getting upstairs. He pushes Dom against the kitchen table, fumbles at his belt, licking at Dom's abdomen to the sound of Dom cursing above his head. 

His knees hit the stone floor with a painful thump. He claws at the zipper and the material, frees Dom's cock, licks it a couple of times just to hear Dom moan, then swallows him down. Dom's fingers tangle in his hair, tightening only when Brian pulls away too far; Brian gets caught up in the feeling, the smells and sounds of having gotten his hands on Dom. When Dom forces him up, Brian actually whines in protest but his pants are practically ripped off and he's bent over the table. 

"The bedroom actually has lube, but you aren't one to do things the easy way aren't you, Brian?"

"We're in a kitchen, I figured you can improvise."

Brian hears a cupboard open and close as he makes him-self comfortable on the hard table surface. He practically purrs when Dom comes back to drape him-self over his body. Brian can feel Dom's cock nesting between his ass-cheeks, teasing while Dom works on what feels like a major hickey on the back of Brian's neck before he pulls away to push slick fingers into Brian's ass while simultaneously palming his cock. Brian finds him-self rocking between the two sensations, clawing at the table because he needs more, as much as he can get as soon and as possible.

It takes a while before Dom decides to actually give it to him. By then Brian has been threatening to kill him for a while and considering a threat or three against Dom's car as soon as he finds where it's parked. When Dom slides in, Brian grinds his head against the table top just to keep from coming right away. Dom is heavy on his back, keeps him from thrusting back onto the cock inside him and all he can do is take Dom's slow, steady thrusts that are driving him out of his mind. Dom's hand is still around Brian's cock teasing it with too light touches.

"You with me, Bri?"

Brian moans at the question, tightens his muscles in retaliation, feeling Dom stutter inside of him.

"M with you..."

His reward for answering is Dom speeding up, tightening his hand on Brian's cock, pushing them both toward release. 

Brian comes with a curse, sharp and bright and for once leaving him feeling lighter instead of just lightheaded. Dom growls above him and Brian can feel his release as Dom slumps onto Brian's back.   
They drag themselves upstairs into an airy room that holds an actual bed and presumably both a bathroom somewhere close and a closet with clothing for in the morning. Of course Dom takes up most of the bed sprawling right in the center of it, so Brian takes the only sensible course of action and drops onto his chest. 

"So how exactly did you find me?"

Brian hasn't believed in coincidence or luck for quite some time, the last of his beliefs having evaporated after leaving LA.

"Nah, heard rumors of a ghost on the strip; white boy doing the rounds, sounded familiar. Went to check it out, saw you."

It strikes Brian as funny; he's been haunting the clubs alright but had no idea that anyone noticed.

"A ghost, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm assuming that it's put to rest now?"

Brian smothers the laugh he's amazed that he still has energy for in Dom's skin ,then closes his eyes.

"Yeah, it's at rest and kind of hoping you don't snore."


End file.
